Every Street
by pradaloz
Summary: Rogue demon hunters, multiple Links, and a missing princess. Guilty pleasures? Maybe just a few. AU, WIP


**Title:** Every Street  
**Feedback to: **pradaloz00 at yahoo dot com  
**Classification:** AU  
**Rating:** R  
**Summary:** Rogue demon hunters, multiple Links, and a missing princess. Guilty pleasures? Maybe just a few.  
**Disclaimer:** All of the characters used herein are the creations and property of Nintendo. The author is not receiving any monetary compensation for this work.

* * *

One thousand years was a long time for one to wander the Goddess' great green Hyrule, and yet he suspected that perhaps he was not using the time as best he could. It had taken him the first hundred years to figure out who he was, the second to figure out what he was, and several hundred more trying to figure out why he was. It wasn't until the seventh hundred year that he realized "why" was irrelevant--he simply _was._

She'd never understood it, never believed it--to her, "why" was everything, the key to understanding the what and who and how. She could no more let go of the why than she could understand it, and he sometimes wondered if that, more than the magic, was what had driven her crazy. Too often when he closed his eyes, he could imagine her formidable mind slamming against the question again and again until it cracked beyond repair, leaving only splintered fragments. But then he would open his eyes, look up into the sun, and remind himself that she wasn't completely insane.

So far as he knew.

The last hundred his had been his and his alone to spend however he saw fit. Mostly, he spent his time wandering the eastern island, where he controlled the demon population and carried the ache of her absence with him. If any of his successors sensed his presence, he was unaware they did. There was no reason for them to know he existed. He had no desire to make contact with them. He was perfectly happy fighting monsters by day, watching football by night, and letting the world continue to turn beneath his feet.

After ninety-seven years, though, that began to get a bit boring. It was then that his contacts began sending word that something was happening. Something darker, something from a deeper part of the underworld was stirring in its sleep--something the Him of now might not be able to handle, even with the help of the Them of now surrounding him. Or so said the witches and seers. They'd been wrong before; Nayru knew they could be wrong again. Still, it was a bit depressing, day in, day out, nothing to do but what he'd done before, no one to see except those he'd seen before. He'd begun collecting postcards from all the places he'd been, so he could show her when she came back. At first, he'd written long messages, all the things he'd thought and wanted and done without her. After a while, he'd begun to write less and less until now he only recorded the date and the demon. He'd grown tired of waiting.

It was time for something new.

He packed his bags and hopped the next flight to the mainland.

* * *

Another day, another dollar--no, Malon corrected herself, another day, another _demon_, another dollar--and despite the plethora (and here she congratulated herself on successfully incorporating the word into her thoughts) of days and demons, they always seemed to be coming up a few dollars short. At least, that's what Zelda's grumpy expression seemed to convey as she went through the books. Then again, Zelda always looked a bit grumpy, just as Sheik always looked a bit stoned, Nabooru always looked a bit smug, and Link looked...well, like Link.

_"Constipated,"_ Nabooru had said once. _"Hot, but constipated. Don't tell him I said so."_

_"Don't tell him about which?"_ had been Malon's question.

_"Either."_

In Malon's opinion, Link's life was hard enough without learning that his friends thought he looked like _that_. It wouldn't hurt him to know about the hotness--but there was no way, no how Malon would be the one to tell him, nonononono--but he surely wouldn't want to hear about the other. Malon would keep her mouth shut. She would sit here in the office, watch Zelda glower at the books, and file away the damage wreaked on her nails by their latest adventure. As much as she enjoyed her job, she had to admit it was hell on her nails.

She'd tried to complain to Ruto about it, but Ruto's only suggestion had been for Malon to get a manicure. Sure, she'd get a manicure. Then winter would roll around again, she'd spend half her time outside in the freezing cold hauling the boys to and fro and the other half of her time outside in the freezing cold with her horses, and her nails would shatter, sending the however many rupees she'd spent on them down the drain.

Someday, Malon knew, the sarcastic little voice in her head would break free, stunning the people around her. Or perhaps sarcasm wasn't the word she was looking for. Perhaps it was something else. She'd have to ask Nabooru, when Nabooru decided to show up again.

_"You know, now that I think about it, I guess it really could be a digestive problem. Think we oughta slip him a laxative?"_

Then again, conversations with Nabooru always took a turn for the weird that Malon sometimes wasn't prepared for. Naboooru might be the most fabulous woman Malon had ever met, but she did have a way of making things very weird. Maybe it was a good thing that she wasn't around very often.

At that moment, the emory board slipped through her fingers and ripped across the skin of her thumb. An involuntary "Ow!" slipped out before she could stop it, and the next thing she knew, Zelda was looking up at her, brow arched in question.

"Butterfingers," Malon said, holding up the board. "I can't seem to keep my nails looking nice."

"You should get a manicure."

"I would, but it's a little expensive."

"You could always stop biting them."

"But that would be too easy."

Zelda laughed, and Malon was reminded that the other woman was actually quite pretty when she wasn't looking grumpy. It was too bad, at least in Malon's opinion, that they didn't get to spend more time talking. But though they spent a lot of time in close proximity--especially when the boys were away--they were both too busy to sit and gab, really gossip the way a pair of girls ought to. Zelda had the books, both financial and research...ical? That wasn't a word, was it?...and Malon had the office to run, building repairs to make, and horses to exercise. Rare were the moments when one of them wasn't busy, rarer still were moments when both weren't busy.

Well, she wasn't busy now, so she was free to stretch out in her chair, prop her boots up on her desk, and pay some attention to her grooming. She began sanding down another nail, frowning at the raggedness of her cuticles, and wondered if perhaps a manicure would be so bad an idea. No doubt Ruto and Zelda paid outrageous sums of money for theirs, but surely there had to be someone in the city who knew how to take care of a girl's hands for less than one hundred rupees. Maybe even less than fifty. She could probably--the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut downstairs interrupted her thoughts.

Zelda had looked up at the sound, too, and Malon met her eyes. "I guess the boys are back."

"That was fast," Zelda said, rising to head downstairs, Malon trailing behind her.

They trotted down the stairs, Malon noting a tightness in Zelda's shoulders that she could feel in her throat. It shouldn't have taken so little time to hunt down the remaining moldorms, and the boys wouldn't willingly return while they were aware of any that might be on the loose. The only reason they would have come back so soon was if one of them was injured, and injured badly. "I guess they took my advice to divide and conquer," Malon said, forcing her voice to stay light and unconcerned. "And here even I thought it was a bad idea."

Zelda spared a rather sickly looking smile over her shoulder in thanks, then both women steeled themselves for whatever sight they might be about to see.

But when they entered the lobby, it wasn't the boys waiting for them, shrugging off their gear and looking for bandages. It was a stranger, and not an unattractive one at that, Malon noted with a sense of pleasure that vied with her relief. He wasn't short by any stretch of the imagination, certainly he was taller than her own father, but he wasn't as tall as either of the boys. He was lean--obviously in good shape--and well put-together. Blue eyes, blond hair--why _had_ the goddesses seen fit to fill her life with blonds?--profile like an ancient sculpture...no, not at all unattractive.

He looked at her, then, with a grin that made her think that Nabooru certainly wouldn't use the same word to describe this one as she did Link.

"Can we help you?" Zelda asked.

"I'm here for a job."

"A job?"

With Zelda's skeptical look as a cue, Malon said, "We didn't have any ads in the paper." Though there had been that one a few months ago when they'd needed someone to help her rebuild the office after the bomb bag mishap.... "Not any recent ones, anyway."

"Not here because of an ad. I'm just here to help you out."

"That's quite thoughtful of you, Mr..." Zelda prompted.

There was that grin again. Malon wished it would go away. It was difficult to be objective or wary when it was around. "Link. Same as the big boy around here."

Malon blinked, and Zelda glanced over at her. Though the look was brief, it conveyed enough for Malon to know the other woman was thinking the same thing she was: they had a severe case of hero-worship on their hands. It wasn't unusual for boys to show up, swearing they had to help the Chosen One in his quest to protect the citizens of the city. They tried to keep a low profile, but every now and then, word would get out, and they'd find themselves with a herd of Link-wannabes on their hands. Fortunately, it usually took one run-in with a horde of moblins to send them running back to their mothers. None had ever been quite this old, though Malon supposed there was a first time for everything.

This one, though, this one was different. He felt different. He looked different. This one wasn't strutting around like the others, eager to prove himself. He held himself differently, as if he had nothing to prove. Zelda was looking doubtful--probably because he was studying her so intently--but Link had once told Malon that her instincts were too good to ignore.

So it was that she stepped forward before Zelda could dismiss the stranger and said, "Why don't you wait until Link and Sheik get back? You can talk to them about helping out." Doing her best to ignore both Zelda's glare and the stranger's damn grin, she gestured for both to follow her up the stairs. "You can wait up here with us."

She started back up without waiting for a response, though from behind her she could hear Zelda's muttered, "This should be interesting" and the stranger's "It certainly should be."

Malon just wondered what Link would think.


End file.
